


False Friends

by BeatriixExtrange



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Moira isnt a doctor but it's the closest they have, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes Speaks Spanish, she has the flu, sombra is sick, spanish is a tricky language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 16:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19176661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatriixExtrange/pseuds/BeatriixExtrange
Summary: Who needs false friends when you have fake ones? In which Sombra is sick, things get lost in translation and funny misunderstandings happen.





	False Friends

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting at 2am after six months of drought so here, have this.
> 
> See the end for the Spanish parts.

Sombra woke up feeling like shit. She wasn’t hungover, and she’d been getting about the same amount of sleep as always —which was definitely not enough—, so it either was a cold or a tumor.

For a moment she wished it was the latter. 

After half an hour of internal struggle, she decided she  _ at least _ needed to get up to get an ibuprofen. Or twenty. Not like twenty were more effective than one, but it would save her any more trips to get them.

Dragging her feet through the floor, Sombra headed towards the kitchen. She didn’t even bother to get dressed. It was Talon’s main compound, after all. They lived together, or those with nothing else to go back to did. They knew each other. And she knew enough dirt about everyone for them to dare say anything to her. 

Why basic medical stuff was in the kitchen was  _ only partly  _ Sombra’s fault. She had cut herself cooking  _ once  _ and since then Moira had insisted on implementing a first-aid kit everywhere. It wasn’t a bad idea, she had to admit, but she also knew it was a mockery from Moira’s part, treating her like a child who needed a bandaid. She’d always been ruthless, but since Angela broke up with her she’d turned cruel, relishing in others’ mistakes and faults.  _ I’m far too busy with important business to deal with your insignificant incidents _ , she’d spat.  _ Don’t bother me unless you’re volunteering as my next test subject. _

“Sombra” Reaper called through her comm. “Where the fuck are you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Coming, relájate.”

She heard a hiss and then silence.

She was late for the debriefing. So late she’d missed it altogether. What a pity. Not like she wouldn’t have practically fallen asleep listening to Reyes talk about their next targets and missions and whatnot. She got any of the intelligence they had a week before them anyway. And sometimes fed them scraps. They were clueless and content, exactly what Sombra needed.

She didn’t even spare the group a glance as she strode through the kitchen and went straight for the medical kit.

“You missed the debrief” Reaper pointed out. His voice always sounded so dark through the mask. Sombra’s head was too dizzy to respond with something witty, so she just hummed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Moira asked, watching her rummage through the cabinet in search of something for her headache.

It was just unfortunate they usually went to the kitchen to have their little after-meeting gatherings. There wasn’t much to do in the base, and one could only shoot so many things before getting bored. Sombra just wanted to have her magic pill and go back to bed. She should have worn her stealth suit, avoid any and all of her teammates and their nagging, but it was too late for that now. 

“I have constipation” she finally answered. She hoped they would leave her alone if they thought she was contagious.

“Thank you for this very important update on your health” Moira mocked.

“I still haven’t heard any valid excuse for why you missed the debrief.” Reaper sounded genuinely annoyed. 

_ Y dale Perico al torno,  _ Sombra thought.  _ Isn’t being bed-ridden, on-the-verge-of-death sick enough? _

“If you don’t think it’s excuse enough, I can try passing the virus on to you. It’s not the kind I’m used to working with but I’m sure I can make it work.” She finally turned around after gulping down a glass of water with the promised analgesic.  

“Gross.” Widowmaker made a face, her French accent hovering over the sound. “Are you going to tell us when you get your period too? Maybe we get it synchronized.”

Sombra laughed without humour, her head pounding with the sound. “So funny, I can see what your husband saw in you.”

Both Reaper and Moira immediately shot her a warning stare, suddenly tense, but Widowmaker only gave her a dry smile. Sombra decided to steer the conversation back to safer topics.

“What’s your deal with this anyway? I don’t care how much doctor Frankenstein here has modified you, you still can get sick.”

Moira huffed at the nickname, but it was probably indignation at being compared to such a lowly scientist. 

“But we don’t go around telling people.”

“Gabriel you made me cook you fucking soup from your grandmother’s recipe when you got the flu last year, and then complained the whole day because I hadn’t cut las putas zanahorias exactly like she did.”

“I  _ specifically  _ told you how to cut them, it’s an important part of the recipe!” Sombra could almost see him pouting under the mask.

“Mira, mira, que la tenemos.”

“I do not care about your petty arguments” Moira interrupted. “Sombra, just get some fiber or laxatives and for the love of god shut up, nobody wants to hear about your bowel problems.”

“My  _ what _ ?”

Moira sighed. “Come by my office later if you prefer, I can give you something for your constipation.”

“I have the fucking flu why would I need laxatives?”

Reaper chuckled. “Sombra, what do you think ‘constipation’ means?”

“When you’re sick, you know,  _ resfriado, catarro, constipado _ ? What else would it mean?”

“Clearly not  _ that _ ” Widowmaker mocked.

“It means ‘estreñido’” Reaper explained, barely suppressing a laugh even under the mask.

Sombra took a deep breath, suddenly understanding the whole situation. 

“Odio este idioma. Me vuelvo a la cama. Que le jodan a tu debrief, Gabe.”

She could hear the laughs behind her as she went back to her room, a new kind of headache forming. At least the old one was gone, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Relájate = relax  
> Y dale Perico al torno = it's an expression for being repetitive or annoyingly insistent with a topic  
> Las putas zanahorias = the fucking carrots  
> Mira, mira, que la tenemos = don't test me  
> Resfriado, catarro, constipado = different ways of saying to have a cold or the flu (and the origin of all this)  
> Estreñido = constipated  
> Odio este idioma. Me vuelvo a la cama. Que le jodan a tu debrief = I hate this language. I'm going back to bed. Fuck your debrief.


End file.
